


Lying In An Exit Poll

by goodloser



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autistic Character, Casual Sex, Comedy, Confessions, During Canon, Embarrassment, Exhibitionism, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Injury, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Old Friends, Past Drug Addiction, Pre-Canon, Requited Love, Sex Toys, Sex Work, War, camboy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26995981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodloser/pseuds/goodloser
Summary: Five times Blitzwing meets Astrotrain and one time Astrotrain meets him back.
Relationships: Astrotrain/Blitzwing, Blitzwing/Starscream (Transformers)
Kudos: 21





	Lying In An Exit Poll

**Author's Note:**

> i banged this out in 5 hours i ned them i'm going to die
> 
> bw/st are like. platonic mostly.
> 
> i hope bw and st don't seem out of character starscream was a lot more mellow before the war and blitzwing is still an idiot he's just an idiot With Feelings

* * *

Blitzwing was such a regular at  _ Hopper’s  _ he had a drink named after him —  _ the Blitz _ — and although it was a nice enough cocktail with a thunderously-sour uranium mixer, it didn’t beat his preferred drink: a flagon of bitter Stellar. That was what he was drinking today as he leant over the counter of the bar. The hustle and bustle was utterly background in his ears; such a loud guy himself it was hard to outbeat him. Pits, maybe he’d even shorted his audial lining by yelling too much, who knew at this point. It wasn’t as if he could afford a trip to any doctor in the city.

(Especially not when he had better things to spend his credit on, like liquor or other, even less savoury things).

“What can I do ya?” Hopper asked as he nodded at the newest patron to appear at the counter and put away one of the glasses he’d been cleaning.

There was a grunt to his right. Out of lack of anything better to do (or even think about, other than the big cypherball game tonight but that was hours away yet and he wanted to’ve been thoroughly drunk for it), Blitzwing turned to look at him. The mech was big — bigger than Blitzwing, which was impressive in its own right — and had huge, scooping wings that fell from his back; so obviously some kind of flight mode. He shrugged. “Whatever’s good, pal.” His voice had a deep timbre to it. “Ain’t fussy. You got Sansere?”

“Sure thing.” And Hopper turned briefly to fetch a new pint.

The stranger took his seat and began sipping it, though he paused once he realised someone was looking at him and cast a glance over at Blitzwing. He raised an eyebrow as he stared him up at down. Blitzwing felt that familiar feeling of being  _ expected,  _ because it was all anyone ever did when they first saw him. “You a triple or somethin’?”

Yep. That was the question he was expecting.

He pouted immediately and glared at the wall of more expensive grades lining the back. “Scrap. What’s it to you, rude-ass?”

“Don’t get your cables in a twist. I am too.”

Oh. Well, now he felt both relieved at finding a kindred spirit and annoyed at himself for his usual conclusion-jumping (which weren’t his fault or nothing, because everyone else always had that same accusatory tone like was dangerous or as bad as an outlier!), so he returned the gaze. “Well, that frags my circuits, ain’t it? I’m a tankjet.”

“Huh. Shuttletrain.” The big guy took another slow drink. “You in the military?”

Blitzwing chewed the inside of his cheek as he mulled over what to say. Truthfully, he  _ had _ been — but had since been discharged on “bad conduct” or whatever and spent two centuries in military jail. Now he was in contempt, so of course he couldn’t do nothing and no one wanted to hire him much anyway. “I left.”

“Pssh, buddy, you don’t  _ leave _ the  _ military.” _

“You do if you frag a senior for good grades and only realise after the comms’d been on the whole time.”

The mech actually laughed at that; not just a short chuckle, but the kind of joyful sound that had Blitzwing’s face lighting up in a cheeky grin himself. He put a hand out. “You’re crazy, li’l man. I’m Astrotrain.”

“You’re. A train. And you’re called Astrotrain.”

“Keeps it simple don’t it?”

“You pinhead.” But Blitzwing took his hand anyway and shook. “Blitzwing.”

“Nice to meetcha, Blitzwing. Come here often?”

He tilted his head with a smirk on his lips. “You hitting on me, big guy?”

“Maybe.” Astrotrain punctuated that with a wink and a smirk of his own.

It was a terrible pick-up line, but truly, Astrotrain wasn’t half bad or nothin’ (and you  _ bet _ Blitzwing liked them as big as they could get). The only problem was he didn’t have time for a hook-up before the game started and he  _ definitely _ weren’t planning on missing on missing the opening number. “You’re hot, Train. I like you. But I can’t tonight, I’m busy.”

“Oh? Whatcha up to?”

“It’s the Kaonian Petros against the Vosian Big Wings tonight!” And now he was off. He started waving his hands in excitement, his volume rising at every glance towards the TV in the corner of the bar’s ceiling. “Game of the millennia, you  _ know _ it, ‘cuz the Petros got Rigger as their pitcher ‘n’ he’s had this rivalry going with Slats — from the Big Wings — since before I got into prison, and see, the thing is, Slats ain’t even a  _ team player. _ He no-shows to half their training sessions. Drives Coach crazy. So it’s all comin’ down to whether Slats’ mutual hatred for his team can win out over Rigger’s need to beat him, and sure, the Petros are a lot more coordinated — they’re a good team, don’t get me wrong or nothin’, but Slats is a  _ talent. _ He was  _ built _ for all this scrap. Not like your usual player who starts out as a trainee an’ switches to whatever they like the best.”

Astrotrain nodded and hummed as Blitzwing rambled. “So you’re a Wings fan?”

“Naw, not even. I just like Rigger and think this fight is gonna be  _ fragging epic. _ I’m a Knights fan. Iaconian born and true.” Blitzwing thumped his chest and grinned. “You?”

“I ain’t much one for cypherball, to be honest. More of a wingnut fan.”

“Aw, come on. Wingnut’s for ol’ geezers. You ain’t look that old.”

Astrotrain laughed, “Maybe I got an old soul or somethin’. Nah, if I had to, I guess I’d pick whoever plays for Praxus.”

“The Radars? They’re actually  _ real _ good on defence — wait, scrap, you tellin’ me you’re Praxian?” Blitzwing’s optics widened in surprise.

“Sure thing. I know, I know, I don’t really look it.”

“Slag me sideways. Got any other secrets I should know about?”

“Come on, that ain’t no secret.” Though Astrotrain drummed his fingers against the counter anyway. “I dunno. I like readin’? That always takes people by surprise, too.”

“You got layers, huh!” Blitzwing’d assumed Astrotrain was like he was — down on his luck and finding nothing more fun than a good street brawl and a half-year in the slammer, but it seemed he was smarter than he let on. “Say, you wanna head back to mine after the game? Then we can see just how  _ often _ I  _ come _ here.”

“When is it?”

Blitzwing nodded at the TV again. “After the 8 o’ clock news circuit.”

“I can’t, pal. I gotta head back to my job by then and load up for my next haul.” Astrotrain shook his head. “No fun being a transporter, y’know?”

Blitzwing nodded even though he didn’t quite get how hard it could be. “Right. Well, if you’re ever back in Vos, come back to Hopper’s y’hear? I’m here, like, every scrapping week.”

Astrotrain smiled in response.

* * *

Welp, it was time for Blitzwing to earn his keep. Some’d definitely find it beneath them, but slaggit, Blitzwing weren’t beneath  _ nothing. _ It was fun and it paid decent at this point, now he’d built up a following, so who gave a scrap, right? He turned the lights in his spare room up their fullest: good lighting was essential, or something (he’d read that one off the net).

He settled onto his berth, face in hands, laptop on, and laughed when he switched the webcam on and saw himself staring back at him. With a white, lacy babydoll on, he would’ve looked the picture of innocence — except he was  _ Blitzwing, _ a word almost synonymous with  _ slut, _ so it was only really the new viewers who’d be fooled, but maybe it’d get his regulars off, too? He checked his toys were out-of-shot yet in-reach and went live.

He waved and greeted each viewer as they came on, putting on the ditziest voice he could and reminding himself every five seconds  _ not _ to swear, he was meant to be  _ demure, _ damnit, not his usual foul-mouthed self.

> **ibiscus1:** so whats a guy like u doing on a site like this :)

Okay, so the show was pretty much starting now. He tilted his head in a mockery of innocence. “Hmm? Ain’t this just another streamin’ site?”

> **ibiscus1:** no   
>  **ibiscus1:** its a bit more fun   
>  **ibiscus1:** if u catch my drift lol

He laughed. “I ain’t really get it, but okay?”

> **retrorogue:** Take it off   
>  **K_FAN:** KINETA LOVE YOU

“K_fan! You’re here!!” He blew a chaste kiss to the camera, looking straight into it, and his number one regular tipped him nicely. “Is there anything you want to do to me?”

> **K_FAN:** Sit up I want 2 see your body

He did just that and stretched with a breathy sigh, “Like that?” A few more tips and he was holding the edge of his lingerie in his mouth, trying to look shy about it.

> **gkwgreen:** hey bby just touch in between yr legs it will b good

He followed instructions until he pretended he’d never done this before, and until he’d buried a faux-careful finger into his valve, and until he was rubbing at one side of his breastplate and pushing fingers against sensitive lights, and until he took the smallest dildo he had and its tip was nosing its way in in direct view of the camera. In due time, he’d moved onto a bigger dildo and was pumping it in and out of his valve with speed, moaning as it hit his back node, watching the chat gooey-eyed and only hardly paying attention to it.

“You’re right… guys…” and he realised, saying that, that he was drooling. “This — fun.”

> **K_FAN:** Plz Kineta you are so hot <3 <3   
>  **K_FAN:** Lovw you   
>  **cliffbond10:** spread legs more   
>  **Slowgod:** Love the way u arch ur back!!!   
>  **gkwgreen:** nice   
>  **rhan912:** would love to scisssor u   
>  **rhan912:** really wet rn ;)   
>  **prgood8:** hey dont i know you   
>  **erafiftwalker:** omg you are perfect.

Blitzwing coyly raised a finger to his mouth as he stuck his tongue out and touched it gently. “Maybe you’ve seen my vids, PR~ the, the fake fluid one, lotsa hits on Exdot?”

> **prgood8:** no irl

“I get aroun’ a lot, yanno.” He winked.

> **prgood8:** not that i never did lol   
>  **gkwgreen:** dont dox him wtf   
>  **prgood8:** k i wont but i met you in that bar you were talking bout cypherball   
>  **prgood8:** it was 4 weeks ago idk   
>  **K_FAN:** Omg Kineta Likes sports thats so cute <3 Perfct

Blitzwing’s eyes flashed with alarm. Oh Primus. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. His hand paused, dildo buried inside him.

He faked a call by comming his flat’s landline and pretended to be surprised as he looked over at the source of the noise. “Ah — emergency — Ki’s gotta cut it sh-short, sooorrryyy guys,” and he ended the stream.

He pulled his dildo out and stared dumbfounded at the screen. No way was that Astrotrain. Right? He felt a wave of embarrassment flush over him. It could’ve been anyone else, because anyone who knew him knew he loved to talk about sports at Hopper’s and anyone else who knew him knew he was a cammer and either wouldn’t say anything about it or wouldn’t care, so —? Should he ban him? No, he’d totally know something was up then. Oh frag.

He wasn’t really turned on any more. Not really. There was still that exhibitionist undercurrent of horny thrumming through his systems, but now he had better things to do.

He hit the racks, washed his toys, and put them away. No need for them right now. He spent the next few hours trying to distract himself by leafing through a comic book, but found he couldn’t focus on the story at all, and now his helm was all jumbled and stupid and he felt like a total idiot.

He didn’t even care if he got doxxed, or whatever, because he didn’t have a job and it  _ really _ wasn’t as if his reputation’d be ruined (with who? Who’d seriously give enough of a slag about him doin’ this or even be surprised)? It was just — almost mortifying to think about, because Astrotrain had been kinda  _ cool _ and handsome and what if he wasn’t into him anymore? What if he was grossed out (as if he would be,  _ he _ was the one on the cam site, but he ignored that bit of sense in his head) or not grossed out, just, wanting something more  _ intimate _ and  _ exclusive? _

Or what if he was just disappointed.

This was really no use.

He headed back to his berth, but seeing his laptop there and the Iaconian Knights pennant pinned to his wall above it only embarrassed him and reminded him of the whole thing further.

So he left to sleep on the couch to the noise of some dumb movie playing.

Astrotrain, on the other hand, was staring at his datapad in his motel room in dumb shock.

Had he said something wrong? Well, maybe, it wasn’t like he did this sorta thing often, but, Blitzwing hadn’t seemed like the kind of person who’d care about stuff like this, so…? He hadn’t really said anything incriminating. Had he? It  _ was _ Blitzwing wasn’t it — no, it had to be, who else had a champagne-baby-blue paintjob, who  _ else _ had wings  _ and _ a tank gun peering up from his back?

He swiped his jaw. He couldn’t tell if he was an idiot, a jerk, or both.

He’d just been scrolling aimlessly (bored, as he usually was on lay-overs) and clicked on to find Blitzwing ‘facing himself and looking — he had to admit — both cute and  _ really _ hot. He could almost imagine towering over him and thrusting his hips himself, with Blitzwing shaking and shuddering out those precious sighs beneath him.

(And, he had to admit, the cutesy first-timer act was definitely not real at all, so just how wild was Blitzwing in the berth really?)

He sighed. He furrowed his brow. He clicked around to find another video to watch so he could self-service and go to sleep.

***

Blitzwing leant against the wall of the mixer. Or rather, the “political rally” or whatever. He’d come here to meet people and have fun, but honestly? The whole thing was starting to bum him out — because it was  _ true. _ He’d never been much of a free thinker and preferred to just think what he was told to: and what he was told made an awful lot of sense.

If only the truth of the world he lived in wasn’t so depressing.

Any other day, he’d love palling it up with a crowd like this — nuts like Horri-Bull or Octane were great to slam it back with or get into a hearty fistfight.

He just wasn’t feeling it today.

Starscream flittered through the crowd all of a sudden — he appeared out of nowhere, wings first. He raised an eyebrow ridge at Blitzwing’s sullen look; his arms folded, one leg kicked out, and his mouth moulded into a line. “Well what’s got you all upset?”

“Ain’t this stuff bum you out, Screamer?”

“Come  _ on,  _ Blitzwing. It doesn’t if you don’t let it. This is our chance for change.”

Change. Change would be good. Why Starscream wanted it, he had no idea; as a seeker, the little guy would’ve been top-class at the Vosian Airforce Academy, except  _ he’d  _ been so smart and lucky he’d won a scholarship to go to some fancy tech institute instead. Blitzwing would’ve been jealous if he didn’t care at all for “science” and “propriety” — leave that up to glib-mouthed brown-nosers like Screamers were. So why he was so keen on changing the system that’d worked for him was a mystery to him, but whatever. At least he was fun in the berth. “Like, revolution?”

“Of course.”

“If there’s fighting, I’m in.”

Starscream snickered. “You only have one thing on your mind, don’t you? Come on, I can take you to see Megatron. He’s taken a shine to me, you know.”

“Sure he has.”

“I’m serious! ‘Intelligent’, ‘brave’, ‘ambitious’,  _ all _ words he’s used to describe me to one of his miner friends. Come on.” He grabbed Blitzwing’s arm and pulled him through the swathe of people until someone’s hand grabbed him and yanked him back. His turret banged against heavy metal.

He twisted around with a snarl, yanking his arm out of Starscream’s grip. “Watch it—”

“Hey.” A familiar face peered down at him.

“A… Astrotrain? Holy scrapmetal. It’s been a while, buddy!”

Starscream poked his nose out from behind Blitzwing’s wings. One of his fingers gripped it with caution. “Blitzwing? Who’s this?”

“‘M Astrotrain,” Astrotrain grunted and thumbed himself square in the breast. “Hey, you look a lot like Skywarp, little man.”

“You know Skywarp?!”

“Ouch,” a far deeper voice than Starscream’s yelped, and a very similar looking frametype at Astrotrain’s left peered at the both of them. “Screamer, can you  _ tone _ it  _ down?” _

“I  _ knew _ you’d come round,” Starscream beamed and tried to pull ‘Skywarp’ into a hug.

“Sheesh! Get off me. Don’t get all mushy on me. I’m only here ‘cuz Train’s here.”

Astrotrain looked between the two of them. “‘Warp, you got a brother or somethin’?”

“Trine. He’s not related, just my awful, slaggin’, stupid leader.”

“Where’s Thundercracker?”

“Runnin’ practice drills again. He got in trouble with Grandstander again, y’know.”

Starscream smiled fondly. “He’s always too meek, you know. I’d’ve hoped you would’ve been able to knock it out of him.”

_ “That _ guy? I think both of us is louder than he could be on a good day. So who’s your boyfriend?” Skywarp nodded at Blitzwing, who felt… like he’d missed a piece of the puzzle somewhere.

“Blitzwing. Remember? I found him in that sleazy alley on Tri Way?”

“The liftoff addict?”

Astrotrain stared at him. Blitzwing pursed his lips and said, “That was before I met you! Sheesh. I was clean then ‘n’ I’m clean now.”

Astrotrain just hummed and folded his arms.

Skywarp looked like he couldn’t even care less about having spilled all of Blitzwing’s dirty secrets. “So you here for the rally too, Blitzy?”

“I came here with Screamer. He said I could meet the Big Guy.”

“Same nickname!” Skywarp went in for a hi-five and Blitzwing mentally shrugged (why not?) and hi-fived back.

Blitzwing decided he liked this guy.

Astrotrain said levelly, “So where’d you go? Last time we met ended up, lessay,  _ awkward.” _

“So that  _ was _ you!” Blitzwing quirked his lips. “You — I dunno. Ugh. Whatever?”

“I offend you or somethin’?”

Skywarp hooked his arm around Starscream’s shoulder and giggled. “Well, well, well, whatcha got there? Tell us all the juicy details.”

“Starscream —” Blitzwing started.

“Recognised him off a camsite or somethin’ and that was the last I ever saw of him for, what, three years?”

Starscream gaped. “Blitzwing you  _ what?” _

“What! It was fun! Keep looking at me like that and I’ll wipe your teeth off your face!”

“It wasn’t to get more liftoff, was it?”

_ “No!  _ Or I mean, not after a while, but what else was I meant to do? Not easy to get a job fresh outta the clink ‘n’ all.” Blitzwing shot Astrotrain a glare as he said that. “What is it? Embarrass Mister Blitzwing Day?”

(Calling himself mister like that? Getting  _ embarrassed _ about his past when he’d seemed like such a brash figure when they’d first met? Astrotrain had to admit that was kinda cute).

“So where’d you go? Hopper said you ain’t been around the bar that much either.”

Blitzwing seemed to deflate a little, though not for a reason he could even identify. “I… was always tryin’ to find better work, somethin’ that’d pay better, y’know? ‘Cuz I don’t care about livin’ dirty or nothin’ but it’s nice to have enough cash to go to the doc, yanno? So I kept trying to join up as a junior cypherball player but when I got in I weren’t that good at it. Clumsy, or whatever. So I got kicked out and I went back to cammin’ for a while but then I landed a job as a bartender ‘n’ then I made it up to waiter at a nicer restaurant, how cool’s that? I ain’t allowed to cuss though.”

“Yeah,” Astrotrain laughed, and though Blitzwing’d been annoyed earlier the feeling leaked out of him on hearing such a goodnatured laugh (so Astrotrain  _ hadn’t _ been trying to wind him up, just genuinely curious, maybe even worried?) “Knowing you, you can’t go two clicks without callin’ someone Primus’ left lugnut or somethin’.”

“You still a transporter?”

“Sure.” And he clapped his chest again. “Not for long, though. I’m a senior not, but who cares about all that? I’m gonna be a great warrior in the upcoming revolution. I’m so big I bet I could just step on some o’ then bureaucrats.”

“Hey, me too! I wanna sword, yanno? Like  _ swoowsh _ and  _ die! _ and energon everywhere, and everyone’s gonna know who Mister Blitzwing is, and I’m gonna be the best warrior ever. Hey, we should make like a team! Like a Triple Takeover! Slag, can you get that done, Starscream?” Blitzwing made more noises as he mimed slicing some richie-rich heads off.

“Uhm,” Starscream laughed nervously. “Maybe…? We can always bring it up with Megatron.”

“You should come see him with us, Train.”

“Train?”

“You betcha. Blitzy and Train. We’ll be unstoppable.”

It was shortly after that that they’d made it to the front of the crowd, and then into a smaller back office, where Megatron himself was reading over a datapad with an amusingly small pair of glasses on his nose. Starscream bowed (almost snakelike in how fluid it was, really). “Megatron, my dear.”

“Starscream,” Megatron rumbled, and removed his glasses to peer at them. “I see you’ve brought friends this time.”

There was an imperceptible movement at the edge of the room and Blitzwing realised there was someone standing there; a blue-toned person, smaller than he was, with a visor-mask combo and an unidentifiable alt. Blitzwing grinned at him.

“But of course!” Starscream gestured at them. “Blitzwing — old friend — Skywarp — trinemate — Astrotrain, who I have just met. They are  _ very _ eager to not just listen, but join the resistance, you know. Skywarp is even an outlier. He will be extremely useful as a special agent, you know.”

Megatron tipped his head politely. “Excellent. Yes, Blitzwing, Astrotrain, you look like you’d be brilliant firepower, and — triplechangers, I take it? You’ve understood the brunt of what the Senate does to us. Would you like to speak at a rally some time?”

Blitzwing shook his head as Astrotrain nodded. “No thing, Megatron. Uh, I ain’t real good at talking or whatever. I bet Train is kinda good though. Even if he’s a bit rough.” He left out the fact he was a dumbaft, too; maybe it was kinda rude in such an important presence.

Later, at the rally, Blitzwing clapped and jumped with the crowd when it was over.

* * *

Astrotrain was  _ crowded. _ Not just that, but he was currently dodging through a heavy meteor shower  _ and _ waves from a nearby ion storm; his compartment rattled and his walls shook violently as he took the needed turns and twists. Blitzwing, in his now two-million-year-old purple paintjob and early, scratched emblem, banged on a nearby wall. “Scrappit! Train, we ain’t bits in a can, yanno! Smooth it out!”

There was a growl overhead. “I can’t. You want me to smash nose-first into one of these things?”

Blitzwing rolled his eyes and stood up as best he could in the limited space. “I’m getting out of here. Frag it all.” He shoved at Tankor and Obsidian with full force to get them to move.

Tankor glared at him, biting his lip.

“Come on, shove it. Mister Blitzwing’s a big guy, you got it?” Not that Obsidian was much smaller.

Blitzwing struggled through the mess of people, at one point spotting the Command Trine squeezed onto Megatron’s lap, all three of them (heh) until he managed to find himself in one of the cargo rooms. Here, it might’ve been piled up with cubes and some stray equipment, but at least there was no one around and his vents could finally  _ circulate. _

He frowned and palmed his helm, then wiped some condensation off his visor and cursed to himself.

That was when he’d spotted a door to the side of the room. “Huh,” he muttered to himself, “I ain’t never seen that before.”

He wandered over to it. Heck, why not? This was a long haul of a trip and it definitely wasn’t possible to gamble with Rumble and Frenzy with all these other bodies around him. There was a password pad to its side.

“Well, that guy’s an idiot, so…”

He keyed in P-R-G-O-O-D-8 and snorted when it beeped with acceptance. Ever since he’d found out he’d used the same username as his internal passwords, and for a  _ camsite _ no less, he’d snorted so hard he cracked the seat he was sat on. He found himself in an unlit room with sticky-looking cables strung all over the ceiling and down the walls. What the hell? Not that Astrotrain  _ could _ clean up internally, but damn, there was certainly nowhere inside  _ Blitzwing _ that was this gunked up. He frowned and headed over to one of the cables to poke it and wonder where it lead to that it so rarely saw the light of day.

The ship jolted.

He almost fell over. Astrotrain shouted over his comms, “BLITZWING. Get outta there  _ right now.” _

Huh? “The frag’s your issue?” He peeked at the fluid now so thick it wasn’t even dripping off his fingers.

It had a familiar smell? Motor oil? No, not quite — maybe a little, but it was both sweeter and saltier and somehow more  _ raw, _ like an earthy scent, he thought as he brought his hand to his olfactory to sniff it.

Oh.

“That means this is.”

After raising the alarm and shrieking that they had to land  _ immediately, _ Blitzwing changed into MiG and dove behind a distant rock formation. The rest of the Cons stared after him, dumbfounded.

_ [Blitzwing, what on Cybertron is your issue?] _ Starscream hissed into his comms. _ [As your commander, I demand you explain yourself this instant.] _

There were heavy thuds as someone who could only be Astrotrain made his way over to Blitzwing’s cowering location. He yelled back over the comms,  _ [It’s too embarassin’! Screamer, you slagging idiot!] _

_ [How is this my fault?!] _

_ [I dunno — just give me some time to calm down — scrappit —] _

“Blitzwing. If you’d just meet my eyes,” Astrotrain’s deep voice called.

He shouted, “I can’t! I ain’t doing it. Primus. I’m gonna die of embarrassment I think.”

“That ain’t even possible. Come on, what’s the big deal? You’ve  _ eaten  _ my transfluid before.”

“It ain’t even that! It’s the unprocessed stuff! It’s different!”

“How?”

How was it different? Blitzwing didn’t even know. And he’d done far more embarrassing and weird things, like guzzling Astrotrain’s waste fluid like it was syrup, or letting Starscream ‘face him in front of a load of Autobots for a laugh. He was the official Decepticon Grade-A Cum Dumpster, after all.

It was just…  _ weirdly _ intimate?

“Wanna talk about it?” Astrotrain’s voice was much closer now. There was another thud as he sat down a healthy distance from Blitzwing, who didn’t bother looking up from staring at his thighs.

“No.”

“Come on. Let’s get back to the… to me, I guess.”

“You don’t find it weirding you out?”

“Well. A little, I guess, but it ain’t like you did it on purpose, so whatever, right?”

Blitzwing sniffed. “You… You’re leakin’ down there.”

“Happens sometimes. Guess I’ll have Flatline look at it.”

Blitzwing chewed his bottom lip.

* * *

“Seriously, Starscream. I need your help with this.”

“What is it, Blitzwing.” Starscream didn’t even bother to look up from the console in the command room.

“I think I like Train!”

Starscream drawled and continued tapping, “Congratulations. You’ve done what no one else has done before.”

“I’m serious with this, pally!” Blitzwing slapped Starscream’s back. “I can’t go talkin’ to Rumble or Frenzy, they’ll just laugh at me and they ain’t no good at keeping secrets either. You’re my only other friend gotcha? How do I get him to hit me up already?”

“Blitzwing,” Starscream sighed and finally turned around to see Blitzwing was clutching his head in apparent panic. “You’re far too old to be so immature about this. Just ask him out.”

“I can’t! I’m scared.”

“You overgrown bitlet.”

“I ain’t never done it before so, y’know.”

“What? Are you saying you just frag around instead of getting in a relationship with someone?”

“Sure thing.”

Starscream rolled his optics. “You’re ridiculous. Fine. Let’s go on a fake date after my shift is over and I’ll show you how it’s done. Thirty more clicks.” He peered closer. “... And hit the washracks, you’re muddy.”

Blitzwing saluted. “Roger that, Screamer.”

“Don’t call me that. And don’t consider this a favour either. Maybe Astrotrain’ll take you off my hands and I can have one less problem to deal with.”

So, he did just that and hummed to himself as he scrubbed solvent over himself in the racks, looking forward to his lesson in all this “romance” stuff. Once he was done, he waited outside the command room with a grin on his face, and it eventually opened to see Starscream almost startled to see him there.

“Oh,” Starscream snivelled. “Here you are.”

“Course!” Blitzwing bounded up to him, arms waving. “So what we gonna do now?”

“We need a romantic setting. Something… cannot believe I’m asking this, something Astrotrain likes.”

Something Astrotrain liked? Astrotrain liked being appreciated. He liked war. He liked learning. And, he was a big ol’ softy, so he liked… soft things, which Blitzwing wasn’t quite sure what they were, having never done that before. “Let’s do somethin’ nice. Like, cutesy or whatever. He really wants to be a sire, yanno? So whatever sires get up to.”

Starscream wrinkled his nose at this new information. “I’m going to purge. That’s so pathetic. But very well. Let’s watch… a romcom.” Once they’d retreated to the common room (and kicked out Rumble and Frenzy, who were already in there and graffiting a crude drawing of Megatron on the wall), he dimmed the lights to something at least a  _ little _ sultry and selected something that might’ve suited his tastes, if not a little low-brow (for Blitzwing, of course):  _ Clueless. _

It was a coy, perhaps problematic-for-the-era about two ex-late-housemembers Horrorwing and Lucane. Lucane is an idealistic nerdy type, while Horrorwing is superficial and “almost Screamerlike”, Blitzwing commented. Harrowing and her best friend Dayport befriend the new flier at their academy, Fraxier, give her a makeover, all the romcom clichés until Fraxier decides to ask Lucane out and Horrorwing has no idea why she’s so bothered by this until she realised  _ she _ loves her. Silly, but quaint.

Blitzwing belly-laughed at all the right moments, cried at all the next, and finally, he was gasping and crying at hugging Starscream’s arm at the final, true kiss of the movie. Starscream just rolled his eyes, although he felt a fondness for Blitzwing’s overemotionality and ability to get absorbed into something so, well,  _ unrealistic. _ He claimed to hate his old friend, and well, Blitzwing  _ was _ frustrating eighty percent of the time, but he was someone Starscream had helped out of the dark and yet grounded him all the while.

When the credits began rolling, Blitzwing wiped more optic fluid crawling down his cheeks from underneath his visor. “That was fun.”

“Yes, it was.” Starscream turned and looked him in his optics. Blitzwing just looked blankly back. “Blitzwing?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Oh. But we are?”

“No we aren’t,” Starscream whispered, and put his hand to the back of Blitzwing’s helm who shuddered subtly.

“Starscream?”

“Not that.” He leant closer and tilted his head. His eyelids dipped low. “Call me something else tonight.”

Blitzwing’s hands trembled against where they’d found to touch Starscream’s arms “Th-then what?”

“How about,” and now Starscream’s voice had dropped low and quiet,  _ “my love?” _

“Blitzwing?”

Starscream jumped up out of panic and Blitzwing just hastily turned to see who’d joined them.

Standing in the doorway, face screwed up, was Astrotrain.

Oh.

Astrotrain’s face was, well,  _ unreadable. _ His mouth was slightly open, showing gritted teeth beneath them. His brow was furrowed. His optics were dim. “What’re you doin’?”

“Oh. Uh. It ain’t what it looks like?”

“Astrotrain,” Starscream started in his  _ most _ diplomatic and certainly-not-sleazy voice, “It truly isn’t. You see —”

“Got it. Are you two done?”

Starscream nodded frantically and pulled Blitzwing out of the room with him.

The next time they ‘faced and finished, Blitzwing brought his hands from the back of Astrotrain’s neck cables round to his front, to clasp gently at his faceguards. He smiled dreamily.

Astrotrain stared down at him (arms either side of him propping him up). He didn’t return the smile. He just stared.

“Train,” Blitzwing exhaled.

“I gotta go.” Astrotrain pulled himself up and left.

* * *

_ “Knock Out,” _ and Blitzwing’s fist quivered in the space between it and Knock Out’s faceplates, “if  _ anything _ happens to him I  _ swear to frag I am gonna kill you, _ I ain’t even gonna do that it’ll be worse, I is gonna pull out your pneumatics and eat them in front of you or somethin’, I —”

Knock Out wasn’t phased in the slightest.  _ “Please, _ Blitzwing. He’s in the greatest of care. I assure you.”

Blitzwing waited in the waiting room with his head in his hands. The hours passed. He tried not to count them. He almost wished he had something to chew on.

He couldn’t wait here like this. He commed Starscream.  _ [Star?] _ Even that single word bothered him over the radio; he  _ never _ called him that.

_ [How is he?] _ Starscream sounded hurried; busy.

_ [I dunno. He’s still in surgery.] _

_ “You  _ know  _ he’ll be fine, Blitzwing. Astrotrain is indestructible. He can survive his legs being taken out.” _

_ [I guess — I know, but — what if he doesn’t? Starscream? What am I gonna do?] _

Starscream didn’t respond.

_ [I’ll desert, or something, I promise, I dunno — I dunno, Star! You don’t get it. Oh fraggin’ Primus, stupid slag, scrap —] _

_ [Don’t desert, Blitzwing. Megatron won’t like that.] _

_ [You don’t get it. Yanno how I feel different sometimes? I don’t feel like myself or nothin’. I just sleep for — for weeks, and then when I wake up everyone says I was acting all weird and ain’t respondin’ to my name or whatever, and if Train dies, it’s — it’ll get worse, I know it. It’ll get worse. It’ll happen again.] _

_ [Blitzwing… We’ll take care of you. I’ll protect you.] _

The door swished open. Before Knock Out could even say anything, Blitzwing shoved past him and ran into the ward.

Astrotrain looked… disgustingly, frighteningly, demonstrably pitiful. His armour was much greyer than its usual shade. It was cracked in odd, strange places. His chest was dented so badly stale energon wafted up from heavy punctures in it. And most bothering was his legs: brand-new unpainted chrome that didn’t match the rest of his frame whatsoever.

They looked too new. They didn’t look like his. They didn’t look like him.

Blitzwing threw his head onto his chest and was at least relieved to see his audials could find a sparkbeat, even if it was much quieter than it should be. It was almost drowned out by the sound of the EKG strapped up to Astrotrain’s wrist.

“Buh…?”

“Train!” He put his hands to his face and held them there. “Don’t talk, gotcha? You gotta save your strength ‘n’ all.”

Astrotrain lifted a weak hand and brought it to Blitzwing’s wrist. Blitzwing blinked back tears. “Blit… zwing…”

“You’re gonna be okay, gotcha? Right?”

“I.”

“Train…”

Astrotrain reset both his optics and vocaliser multiple times. He seemed to be struggling to — to everything really, to combust and to vent and to circulate his coolant and to pump energon round his body and to see and to speak. “‘F I die —”

“You ain’t gonna. ‘Kay? Don’t even think you will or nothin’.”

“You gotta. Know, I, l, love y—” and he took another slow invent as his vents opened up as wide as they could, as wide as Blitzwing’s optics went.

“Wh… what?”

“Love you. While now.”

“Wh — since when?!”

“Charing Cross.”

Ah, about a million years ago when they’d been out the far reaches of space; just him, Astrotrain, and Octane (the Triple Takeover) fighting back a whole swarm of feral Insecticons in a hot, muggy jungle.

Astrotrain continued mumbling, “Put sword in your mouth ‘n’ it cut your tongue. Always were, always clumsy.” He tried to laugh.

Blitzwing pinched his brow. “Train…”

“‘S cute.”

He sniffled. “I, I like — love you too, Lugnut.”

“But Starsc…?” Astrotrain’s brow furrowed in return.

“Idiot. That was a fake date. I was tryna figure out how to ask you out.”

“... Oh.”

Blitzwing laughed, feeling stupid that they hadn’t sorted this out in the past few months, happy that Astrotrain had liked him for  _ that long, _ relieved, even, annoyed that he hadn’t just taken the plunge and conjunxed him before, understanding because although Astrotrain loved the initiative he was also a fluffy dork who liked sunrises and hot energon and when Blitzwing sat his fat aft on his lap.

He dipped in and pushed their lips together.

It was different to how it usually was; no lust, none of the feelings that came with interfacing: it was just smolder and breath and quiet trust.

* * *

Blitzwing leant his head on Astrotrain’s shoulder, or at least as best he could at his smaller stature, anyway. Their hands were intertwined and he loved the weight of their palms together; the heat they silently shared. The stars were pretty. Maybe ol’ TC’d say something more poetic, like, “pitch on a fresh road ready to be torn over underneath tracks and thrusters”.

“Blitzy?” Astrotrain said quietly.

“Mm?”

“I. I want you to bear my sparklings.”

Blitzwing nuzzled into his arm. “You already know what I’m gonna say, afthole.”

“Let’s have two.”

“Tracks would be a great name for a tanktrain.”

“There’s that Autobot Tracks, ain’t there? I ain’t want no Bot name.”

“How ‘bout… Killer.”

“That’s just bad and you know it.”

He giggled quietly. “What if they’re a shuttlejet?”

“Fuselage.”

“Course you’d say that. Nerd. Smartylegs.”

“Well, we got all the time we need to pick one, ain’t we?”


End file.
